John, Take a Look Please Vol 1
by MrsCumberbatch
Summary: He just wanted a warm cup of tea and toast after work but not Sherlock naked in his room. COMPLETE.
1. Naked Sherlock

If someone had told him beforehand the image, the scene he was going to see once he opened the door of his own room, John Watson would have believe him. He knew his flatmate was capable of everything. And when he says everything, is _everything._

But after a long day at surgery, the only thing the Doctor wanted to do was changing his clothes, take a hot and long shower, have a nice and warm cup of tea and a night in which he could sleep non stop, without the notes of some Vivaldi or Mozart concerto downstairs in the sitting room.

He passed a Tesco in his way back to the flat. He remembered in no more than three seconds that they were running out of milk, jam, bread, beans... tea. He was quite sure there wasn't anything to eat at 221 b Baker Street. And he could bet anything you want that Sherlock hadn't left the flat the whole day. How did he know? A shot in the dark, of course. Holmes hadn't texted him since he left very early in the morning:** 'Bored' SH.**

So, walking back to his place with all the things he thought will be needed, the Doctor opened the black door, finding Mrs Hudson looking up the stairs. She looked worried, with a deep frown between his eyebrows .She greeted him, but before letting him go, she whispered something refering her other tenant.

"He has been very silent all day, John. I wanted to go and check on him, but-"

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson. He might be sleeping, finally"

She smiled at him and without a word she went back inside her place. He hadn't lied to her, but he knew it was impossible to say that Sherlock was sleeping, and not because of the time. Because with Sherlock Holmes everything could be happening.

The door was open, as always, and the sitting room and the kitchen were deserted. Not a sign of life there. He checked the kitchen. The chemistry equipment was unused, and the sink was full of mugs so at least he has been drinking tea.

The sitting room was peaceful as well. The violin was neatly placed over the desk and the telly was turned off. The bookshelves were complete, except for his book Grey's Anatomy which was placed over the sofa, closed.

His first deduction was that Sherlock may be out, but his coat and scarf were hanging on behind the door. So no, he was inside the flat.

He didn't want to deduce if he was in his room or in the bathroom, so he left the groceries over the table and climbed the last stairs of the building to change his clothes. It was silent, so he couldn never had expected what he saw.

He pushed the door open, finding in front of his body mirror a naked man scanning his own body- _what?_

John Hamish Watson was speechless. No matter how much his brain wanted to send signals to his lips, to his throat, he couldn't articulate a word. In front of him, and in front of his large body mirror was Sherlock Holmes naked, examinating and looking at his body through the mirror. His messy and curly hair was falling over his forehead and his long and pale hands were resting on his bony hips.

"Wha-"

"John, can you help me? there's something wrong with me"

For seconds that lasted an eternity to the Doctor, he couldn't say a word. A few minutes ago he was looking forward to spend a lovely afternoon in front of the telly, eating toast with jam and drinking his tea. But instead of that, he was looking a naked man -no, his flatmate naked and looking at his body like if he was looking a crime scene. He looked puzzled like if he was trying to deduce something for the color of the mud on some victim's shoes.

"I've been observing myself this morning and I've got a few spots under my hips and near my penis, can you take a look and tell me what these are?"

He turned around to face John, who was still silent on the doorframe. He was lost in the man in front of him and his flatmate was looking directly into his eyes with those grey and alien eyes. None of them noticed the steps getting closer and closer to John's room.

"John, I forgot to give you this lett- Oh, sorry! Oh!"

When the Doctor reacted, his landlady was already gone and Sherlock was smiling, happily.

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><p><strong>Unbetad, not Brit-picked, any mistake is mine. I'd love to hear what do you think.<br>**


	2. Lie Down

**I don't own nothing. Thanks all the readers, reviews, favs, alerts... I'll let you read this. Bye!**

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><p>He was quite sure, not a 99.9% sure, a 101.85% sure his cheeks and his ears were bright red, and that his own blood was running inside his head. His heart stopped beating, he could feel it. It was like if his senses were in alert, just like in Afghanistan.<p>

The man in front of him was none other than Sherlock Holmes, the only consultive Detective in the world and he was naked. That smile that had been on his face when their landlady appeared had gone and now he was facing the mirror again, looking worriedly at the spots on his pelvis.

"John, take a look please"

Finally, after seconds that lasted like hours to the Doctor, John managed to think what he was looking at and why Sherlock was asking that, to him.

"I won't examine you, Sherlock. Go to the surgery there's plenty of doctors and-"

The taller man walked a few steps until he was just inches away from him. He placed his hands on his hips like usual and looked at him with a frown. Now John Watson had no place to go since he had his back against the wall of his own room.

"But you're my doctor, John"

"But I'm not going to examine you there!"

"Why?"

They looked at each other. Sherlock was looking for answers and John a way to disappear. It was his room, the one who should leave was Sherlock, not him.

"Why, John?"

A deep sigh emerged from John's lips. Three deep breaths and-

"I can't Sherlock. It's-"

"Embarassing, annoying, ugly, irritating, inconvenient, provoking? Shall I continue?"

"No, its not-"

"So, if its not, take a look please -He looked down at his pelvis and penis- because this is worrying me. I was looking myself this morning and found this strange spots and I don't know what they are!"

John looked at his flatmate. He looked worried, he had to admit it. But he also was acting like a child who makes a fuss when his mother doesn't want to buy him a toy. And he also knew Sherlock wasn't going to stop making such a fuss until he examinate him.

With a long sigh he nodded and pushed Sherlock outside his room.

"Let me have a shower and look for my bag. Go downstairs and please put something on"

But far away from Sherlock accepting his words, he continued complaining.

"John! Do it now, I might die!"

"You're definetly not going to die. No one dies from spots in their- their pelvis. So go down, put something on and go and apology to Mrs Hudson"

"But-"

"No buts"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went directly to his room to look for something to wear and to apologize his landlady. He found his blue dressing gown and reached the stairs down. During his walk through the seventeen steps, he knew he had no reason to apologize, Mrs Hudson was the landlady but she had to knock before coming in. But he was going to apologize anyway, John wouldn't have forgive him.

He knocked the door, and he could hear the slowly steps getting closer to the door. When the old lady opened the door, he smiled at her genuinely.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

"I'm so sorry for what had happened Mrs Hudson. But I no really see why I should apology, you should have knocked the door but-"

She patted his shoulder and smiled at him sincerly. "It's fine dear. Doctor Watson sent you, right?"

The Detective nodded with the face expression of a child who had been punished for eating cookies before dinner.

"Tell him everything is OK"

And when she closed the door, Sherlock climbed the stairs. It had been a few minutes and John never took more than five minutes under the shower.

And he was right because when he opened the door John was sitting in his armchair, with his medical bag over the table and reading his Grey's Anatomy book. He had been reading it that morning, looking for some article or chapter about spots. But he couldn't find anything.

"Did you apologize to Mrs Hudson?"

"Yes. Now John, can you take a look please?"

The Doctor nodded and looked at the sofa.

"Lie down"

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><p><strong>Did you like it?<strong>


	3. Under my pelvis and in my penis, John

John tried very hard, if it would have been posible in some way, to stop his cheeks and ears turn bright red by all his blood of coming directly to his head. His face was the face of a very serious doctor facing a very serious case with a very serious patient. Even when he knew his patient wasn't a very serious person, when it wasn't a very serious case and he wasn't a very serious doctor (he was!) John tried very hard.

But his flatmate, instead of helping to get over the situation that was clearly embarassing for the doctor, he acted like if it was the most common thing of the world.

For John it wasn't the most common thing to do. And he was a doctor. He supposed to see and do things than people who didn't go to Med School can't do. But this situation was getting his nerves.

For Sherlock, it could be even better than hearing Lestrade's failed attemps to solve a crime when he was a Detective Inspector or the New Scotland Yard. And even better than humiliate Anderson, and the list could go on.

At the words_ 'Lie down'_ Sherlock reacted like a kid who had been allowed to open his presents before Christmas morning.

He was ready to take off his night gown, but John assured him it wasn't necessary. But he was fighting against Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock Holmes always does what he wants.

He took it off with one quick movement and lay on the sofa and placed both arms under his head, ready to be examined.

Doctor Watson took a pair of gloves and put them on and then he looked at his bag for something, but Sherlock knew it was an excuse to look away.

Five seconds later, John started to do what he was asked to.

"Tell me where are the- the spots"

Sherlock Holmes was best known for his work, for his deductions and his attitudes. Only a few ones knew about his acting skills. And between those 'few ones' was John. He knew what Sherlock was capable of in order to solve a case, but this time he couldn't say for sure if his flatmate was acting of if he was seriously worried about the spots.

And with a worried face, a frown between his eyebrows and a thin line with his lips Sherlock replied.

"Here -with his index finger he pointed at his pelvis, just under his hips- and in my _penis_"

John in a very concealed way took a deep breath and with one hand moved the pubic hairs to take a look at the spots.

Sherlock smiled to himself, he knew what John was looking at.

"Sher-"

"In my penis John. There are more and-"

"Sher-"

"I'm really worried because-"

"Sher-"

"I was in the shower this morning-"

"Sher-"

"I have never-"

"Sherlock!"

John looked furious and his face had a very bright shade of red. And Sherlock's expression wasn't helping at all.

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><p><strong>Did you liked it?<strong>

**Thanks for the lovely feedback :]  
><strong>


	4. Something hard under his hand

"Sherlock-"

"John, listen to me-"

"No Sherlock, you listen to me. These are not spots, not _'I might die'_ spots. These are just moles. _Moles_, Sherlock."

John was still blushing at the situation, and Sherlock looked surprised. He acted like if he had been surprised.

But what the doctor didn't realize what the fact that his hands were still on Sherlock's body. His right hand on his left bony hip and his left hand on his penis.

Sherlock felt seduced by the touch of his flatmate. He was wearing gloves, yes, but he could feel the warmness of those medical hands. And it was making him hard... under John's touch.

"But it looked dangerous to me! I was looking at my penis this morning and-"

"And what have you been doing to look at your penis and find out this moles? Sherl-"

"It was my morning erection and-"

At the sound of the word _erection _John felt something hard under his left hand. His thumb could make him feel blood pressure. Something wrong was going on under his left hand...

When John glanced down at where his hands were resting on his eyes widened on surprise.

Sherlock's erected penis was being held by his hand. Hard.

_Sherlock. Penis. Hard._

The realization of it made John jump from his seat, taking a few steps back, looking surprised.

His flatmate changed his position from the sofa and tried to calm the doctor. John's face was pale, and his mouth was the exact replic of an 'o'.

"John."

"Sher-Sherlock! What are you doing?"

"John-"

But the doctor grabbed his coat and rushed down the stairs, leaving Sherlock alone in the sitting room, naked, watching him leave through the cold glass of the window.

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><p>He couldn't remember how much he walked, but it must have been a very long time because his leg was hurting him again, and the shops weren't the same he used to remember from at least ten blocks around Baker Street.<p>

His mind was still processing the past events of that afternoon. First, his flatmate naked looking at himself in his room. Second, poor Mrs Hudson witnessing that scene and now he was quite sure she was going to smile and smirk at him in a very suggestive way _'I knew you didn't need two bedrooms'_. And finally, the last thing he could have ever imagined was making Sherlock got _hard._

He found looking at his own reflexion through a shop window. Thinking about Sherlock made him blush like a schoolgirl- what?

He was blushing for Sherlock Holmes? The man who claimed himself as a sociopath, the only consultive detective of the world? Something must feel wrong. He couldn't think of him in that way. He had a girlfriend (or something like that) and a life. The sudden events of that afternoon was threatening the foundations of that life?

Was Sherlock Holmes more than a flatmate for him?

He turned on his heels back to Baker Street. The bravery of the soldier was going to be proved.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to tell me what do you think!<strong> **and sorry for any mistake!**  
><strong>Thanks for the lovely feedback!<strong>


	5. I want Sherlock

**PLEASE, READ THE A.N AT THE END! BYEE, I LOVE YOU.  
><strong>

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><p>It may surprise you how a man can solve his sexuality problems, his feelings and his relationship with his flatmate in a walk through fifteen blocks.<p>

It took him twenty minutes to reach two-two-one B Baker Street. And it took him the same time to solve his problems. To solve his struggles. The struggles he knew he had thanks to the events of that afternoon.

John Hamish Watson haven't been so sure of anything in his entire life until that moment. So with a quick movement, he removed the keys from his pocket and opened the black door of the building, looking for Sherlock.

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><p>Watching John leave without doing anything was hurting him. Easily he could grab his nightgown or maybe a blanket and run after him to explain himself. Or even run naked down the streets if it was necessary, but he didn't do nothing.<p>

His night gown felt heavy on his shoulders, even when it was the only thing covering his body. He tried to make himself some tea, but it wasn't the same. John always made things better: tea, cleaning, cooking, and even mixing chemical compounds!

Everything was better with John. And maybe his actions could make him go away from him.

He should have think about it in a different way, but it was getting worse. It was hard to not see John the way he was seeing him. It was hard to hide glances, touches... erections.

Sherlock Holmes knew since the first moment they meet John Watson was the man who was going to be always by his side. He killed a man just twenty four hours after ther first meeting at Bart's. He spent an entire night reading books and looking for clues and became the target of a chinese mafia after being confused for him. He even had enough Semtex on his chest to blow up an entire street. And he jumped with him to a pool to save their lifes.

John had killed, had lied, had ran, and had risked his life for him. And he felt like he haven't been doing anything in return. The only things he did was playing the violin in deadly hours of the night even when he knew john needed to sleep because he had an early shift at work, not buying milk, tea or beans. Not even caring about the cleaning of their place. And let's not talk about the chemistry equipment over the kitchen table and the body parts everywhere.

The mug full of tea felt cold under his touch. It was useless. John's tea was the only one that helped him to think, and his own tea was making him sick.

Definetly he should have think in another way to make John notice his feelings and-

He could hear a very desesperate steps getting closer. And when the owner of those steps opened the door, he almost dropped his tea.

"John, I'm so so-"

"Come here, Sherlock."

The doctor's lips were on his. And it felt like heaven. Sherlock felt relieved and answered the kiss eagerly. His dreams, his fantasies had became true.

John was on tiptoes to kiss him better, and Sherlock's spine was arched. But in that moment, the height difference couldn't stop them. The doctor could feel something hard hitting him, and he let his left hand fall to reach it. Sherlock was hard again, like him.

The only consultive detective of the world opened his eyes surprised by John's touch. It was even better than before.

"John, I'm sorry."

He didn't like to break the kiss, but it was needed to leave things clear.

"Let's go to my bed, I want to take a better look at those moles."

The dark haired man smiled openly, showing his teeth and followed his doctor to his room.

**Fin.**

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><p><strong>That was the end. What do you think?<strong>

**WELL, THE THING IS: I HAVE WRITTEN A SEXY CHAPTER, WHICH IS THE 'EXTRA' END OF THIS. I'M NOT SO CONFIDENT ABOUT IT YET. BUT I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU.**

**TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO READ IT. IF THE FEEDBACK IS POSITIVE, I'LL UPDATED IT ASAP. IF THE FEEDBACK IS NEGATIVE ABOUT THAT, IT'LL BE OK TO ME.**

**THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, ALERTS, FAVS! AND READ YOU SOON!**


	6. The bravery of the Soldier

**THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY FEEDBACK. I TRIED TO MAKE THIS AS GOOD AS I COULD, BUT FOR ME THIS IS SHIT. I'M VERY CLUMSY, AND DEFINETLY THIS IS NOT THE BEST SEXY CHAPTER YOU'LL EVER READ BUT WHAT COULD I DO? I HAD TO TRY IT SOMEDAY. ITS NOT "SO" GRAPHIC, BUT IT HAS HIS MOMENTS SO... YOU'RE WARNED! BYEEEE.  
>(I READ IT LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES, BUT ANY MISTAKE IS MINE)<br>**

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><p>The feeling of his lips over his, his warm, soft and medical hands over his body and his skin so close was making him hard, and he remembered all those nights in which he used to watch him sleeping.<p>

He didn't care what people may think. He didn't care that one night John may wake up. The only thing that could calm his mind and his body, was watching John sleep.

His body, his almost naked body under the thin and white sheet was something he was used to watch every night. Every single night after the pool incident. John jumped and saved his life.

He looked like a greek god. His arms had muscles that were completely hidden under many layers of clothes during the day. And his chest looked like if architects of heaven had sculpted him by themselves. And his chubby belly was the most delightful thing he had ever seen.

And his hair. John's hair was the most sexy thing he could have ever touched. It was soft, blonde and painted with few grey ones.

And his lips. His lips were thin, and pink. And now he knew they were soft. John's lips tasted like heaven. Like tea and toast, like strawberry jam.

He left John's lips and kissed his jawline, his neck, his skin. His skin tasted different. It tasted like soap, and it smelled like John and his jumpers.

He couldn't remember how then ended on his bed, casually the bigger. They fall together, the doctor over him, and their erections pressing together like if they were fighting against each other.

Instinctively, Sherlock spread his legs and John took this as an invitation. He trusted like if he was penetrating him and Sherlock moaned in pleasure. He was looking at the stars. Don't tell him there was a ceiling over them, because he will deny it to you. Sherlock was literally looking at the stars.

John undone his pants and the consultive detective couldn't tell how his flatmate took off all his clothes. But they were completely naked. And no one could stop them.

No one could stop them. And not even the lack of necessary things like lube and condoms.

They didn't care.

They needed to be _together_.

They needed to be _close_.

They needed to feel the _other_.

They needed their _bodies_.

John was out of his mind. He could feel his precum over the head and without knowing what he was doing, he collected it with his left hand, the same hand that made Sherlock hard a few hour ago and he touched his entrance.

Sherlock moaned harder, and his face blushed. It was the first time in his life he was seeing Sherlock Holmes blushing from head to toes.

And that made him feel more anxious and impatient. He needed to be inside Sherlock. And he was determinated to take him, no one and nothing could stop him.

The taller man placed his legs beside the doctor's waist, making him more easy to take him. And without any words or expressions, John entered inside Sherlock.

And he lost his conscience.

Not literally, obviously.

But there wasn't any need of words. John didn't need to hear Sherlock's approval. They needed to be as close as possible. As close as their bodies could let them.

He buried his face in his lover's shoulder. He could remember as pale his skin was in that area, and his moles, the moles of his neck, the softness of his skin... everything was making him feel more aroused.

His left hand was over Sherlock's hip and his other hand was supporting his own weight beside the detective's head.

But he kept his face hidden in his shoulder, in the deepest smell that his skin was emanating. Suddenly that smell changed. The whole smell of the room changed.

They, and the room smelled like _sex_.

Sherlock was tight, so tight that it was driving him crazy. He lost his mind over that, and then he felt his touch.

His long, and pale hands were on his butt, trying to make the penetration more deeper. His nails, god his nails were buried on his skin, and then they moved to his back. Surely he was going to have some marks, but he didn't care.

He was still there, with his face on Sherlock's shoulder when he felt two tears falling over his cheek.

He had made him _cry_.

He hurted _him_.

He didn't care about _Sherlock._

He only cared about himself and his _pleasure_.

"Sherl-"

The detective kissed at him in a way he could have died in that moment and he would have been happy.

_"Harder"_

He did as he was told, and even he put Sherlock's long and pale legs on his waist. He penetrated again, and harder, but he heard a laugh.

He never stopped his movements but he looked at his lover, who was under him. He frowned. Sherlock was laughing.

Sherlock kissed his ear and told him what he needed to hear.

"C'mon John, show me the bravery of the _soldier._ Harder, fuck me harder John"

And those words magically made him feel strong again. He felt an air of strenght that needed to be used. And Sherlock was his target. He was decided. Sherlock was going to scream his name and he was going to pay for that laugh.

John was going to show him, and make him feel the bravery of the soldier.

And he did.

Sherlock screamed his name for the first time since they started. And it was arousing. It was making feel  
>harder, even more.<p>

John was sure he was going to treasure that scream.

He wasn't going to forget it.

He will remember that scream for the rest of his life.

Because _he_ made _Sherlock_ scream his name with pleasure.

And also, he was going to make himself sure that no one would ever make Sherlock scream that way. He was going to be the only one. The only one who could feel those lips, those nails buried on his skin, those pubic hairs on his and that smell. The smell of Sherlock and sex.

The doctor, also soldier was there. He was there. And he knew his lover was also there.

He wasn't going to tell him, but he needed to hear his voice on his ear. That deep voice that could turn his whole world and his whole life just for him.

"Come for me John. Come inside me. Come, soldier"

_Soldier._

And he did, as his lover.

John Watson, ex Army Doctor fell over Sherlock. They were sweaty, and they shared the same smell. The smell of sex.

They kissed for a long time, until they felt like their mouths were dry. It may be winter, but they felt like they were under the most warm sky in the Sahara desert.

"Sherlock- Sherlock-"

He couldn't talk. His mouth was dry, and he was tired. And he thought his penis was going to fall off. But his ex flatmate now lover silenced his with a finger over his lips.

Sherlock Holmes kissed his chest and rested his head there. His right hand was running over his doctor's body. He smiled when he looked down at them.

John had the same mole near his penis, like him.

The moles were a good excuse after all.

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><p><strong>YEAH, IF YOU WANT TO THROW ME SOME TOMATOES ITS FINE TO ME. BUT SUPPORTIVE FEEDBACK IS ALSO APPRECIATED, THANKS.<strong>

**READ YOU SOON ;)**


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